095 – Jane

Inside of a room of Windy Manor, Jane stood in front of a blackboard, staring at a singular question writ large. She had written it a dozen different ways. She had mulled on it for days. Currently, the question was written in colored chalk, because Jane had decided to turn to flights of fancy, looking for answers.

What does a [Prismatic Attack] look like?

She frowned. She sighed. She flumphed down into a plush chair she had put in this room, days ago, just for the express purpose of staring at this stupid blackboard with its stupid question, mulling it over in her stupid mind. She tapped her fingers across the plush armrests, staring at multicolored letters upon the black background, and their prismatic notion of something that was just beyond her grasp.

“It really shouldn’t be this hard,” Jane said to herself. “I know what the defense option looks like… And that’s the crux of the issue. I can’t make up my fucking mind.” She grumbled. She seethed. She bared her teeth at nothing in particular, but mostly the ceiling, as she let out a minor roar of, “Fuuuuuck!”

She shot up from her chair, to her feet, then rushed out of the room, muttering about how stupid it all was, and how this wasn’t like her at all. She was driven! She knew what she wanted!

And right now, she wanted cake. One of those big frosted things from that one bakery she saw when—

No! She wanted spicy sushi from that place near the theater district in northern Oceanside—

She stopped in her tracks. She could have punched herself, but all she did was breathe out, then in, and still her mind. She needed to talk to someone. That’s what she needed. What she wanted was cake, and spicy tuna-adjacent sushi…

Sushi first. Then cake. In fact… Bring cake home.

… Bring whole cake home. Not just one slice!

Plan acquired!

Jane rapidly deployed her perfect plan. A few blips had her out of Windy Manor, and into the mid morning sun. Cream-colored stone streets were full of theater students, going this way or that, and also going over dramatic lines with each other or debating prose and plot in tea shops.

Noy’s Wrappings was a middling establishment in the area that opened their doors minutes before Jane arrived. She grabbed the fatty lina rolls, which was basically tuna, and paid for it, then ate on the empty veranda, overlooking the street. And then she got seconds. By the time she finished and deposited her stone plate on the clean-it-yourself cart, the veranda was full of people of all kinds, multitudes of discussions, and rather too crowded.

A trip to the bakery took a little more time. Olada’s Red Forest Bakery had been open for an hour already, when Jane got to the place. A line had formed. Twenty minutes later, Jane walked out of there 50 gold lighter, but with a cake sized for orcol appetites. She could support the weight of the thing, of course, but the diameter of the dessert was still the size of her whole forearm and hand, and easily half a foot thick. It was white and creamy and decorated with rich, buttercream frosting, while the cake itself was a dense poundcake. It was one of the best options available, considering Jane had never put in an order, and just showed up to buy one whole cake of whatever they had. Not many places could fill that singular, unorganized criteria of hers, but this place could. Jane had recently taken to trying every food place in Oceanside, and the cakes at this bakery were one of the best, and biggest.

Jane hurried home, practically racing, but still with a normal sense of decorum, to the nearest designated [Teleport] square. One more blip took her to Windy Manor.

Ophiel was leaving a note on the kitchen table.

Ophiel’s many eyes saw her almost as fast as she saw him. The [Familiar] whirled around, wings and feathers spread wide, in a way that was highly indicative that her father was at the controls. He didn’t make Ophiel seem more human-ish all the time when he was in control, and never when he was in perfect control, but Ophiel would have just looked at Jane with his eyes that were on that side of his body.

“Dad!” Jane said.

Ophiel twittered in violins as her Father’s voice carried through, “Jane! Hey, honey! I was just leaving you a note, but you’re here?” Half of Ophiel’s eyes drifted to the cake box in Jane’s hands. “Is it someone’s birthday?” He rushed, “It’s not our birthday, is it?”

Jane smiled, as she moved into the room and set the cake down on the kitchen table. “My Status still says 22.” She snatched up the half-written note, and read, while Ophiel sounded violins. Her father had wanted to talk? Jane set the note back down, slightly concerned, asking, “What’s going on, Dad? What do you need to talk about?”

“… I had wanted to talk about magic, but now I want to talk about our birthday.”

“If they turn out to be different dates, I don’t care.” Jane frowned a little, as she moved over to the kitchen cupboards. She got out a plate, saying, “I don’t care about the woman who birthed me, I don’t care if she lied about when I was born, and I don’t care if we have different dates.”

Ophiel fluttered, as a blip sounded behind Jane. She turned around. Her father stood on the other side of the kitchen table. Jane smiled to see him in person, but then, just as quickly, her frown came back. In that tricky way that memory some times brought up unpleasant times, seeing him here, now, talking about birthdays and looking so young, reminded Jane of the photos she had seen of him in his failed-college years, at a party, with his arm around a certain, unimportant woman.

She said, “Hey, Dad.”

He had a sad sort of smile, as he said, “Hey, Jane.” One Ophiel settled onto Erick’s shoulder, while another Ophiel popped into the air, then disintegrated as a density spread out, into Windy Manor, engulfing everyone. “Poi says hello. Kiri and Teressa send their regards.” He quickly added, “I want to believe that it won’t matter if we have different birthdays, but I’m kinda freaking out a little. With everything that’s been happening, I had forgotten. Sorry. Are you gonna be okay, if this Script shows us something else than how it’s always been? I don’t know if I’m going to be okay.”

Jane did not answer. She turned back to the cupboard, saying nothing.

Honestly, it would hurt if how they’d always celebrated another year turned out to be factually wrong. But just like how her father had said: Birthdays were so far down the list of Jane’s current concerns that to give an iota of thought to an earthly celebration felt like a betrayal of the danger of her current reality.

Jane spoke at the cupboards, “It never felt like a cop out when I was growing up to share birthdays. I always thought it was serendipity that—” She stopped. She couldn’t lie that much. She shrugged. “We’ll know in six weeks, right?” She glanced back at her father, but turned away again, saying, “But! Whatever! Sit down with me. Have some cake.”

“… Okay.”

“Really. I’m fine. I’m sure you will be, too.” Jane grabbed another plate from the cupboard, then a pair of forks, as she fully turned back to her father, and put on a smile. “Anywho: This cake is from a place called Olada’s Red Forest Bakery.” She set the plates down on the table, then lifted the thick paper lid on the cake box. The house flooded with the scents of sugar and butter. “It is so good.”

Erick breathed in the air, saying, “It certainly smells good.” He smiled. “So… If you’re not feeling weird about our birthdays, then why the cake?”

“I don’t know? I wanted it. That’s a good enough reason as any.” Jane telekinetically lifted the cake out of the box. It was a hefty thing, but it was solid; not a single wobble or fluctuation cracked its perfect white frosting. She set the dessert down, saying, “I’ve been going back and forth in the city every day, of course, but ever since I stopped eating slime cores I’ve been trying every place that looked good.”

Erick smiled wider as he sat down at the table. He asked, “Sooo, whaaat’s been going ooon?”

“I have stuff to talk about, yes; I’m getting there.” Jane got out a knife and almost cut into the cake, but her hand hovered above the white expanse of sugar and carbs. She said, “I forgot the milk.”

“I’ll get it,” Erick said, as tendrils of twisted air slipped from him, heading into the kitchen.

“Ah. Thanks.”

Jane cut the cake, but watched out of the corners of her eyes, as a flight spell made of a thousand handy intents opened the stone cold storage box and lifted out the paper milk carton. Other hands grabbed two stone mugs in a cupboard. By the time Jane carved two human-sized slices of cake, using her own hands, her father had poured two cups of milk and returned the milk to cold storage without ever leaving his chair, or even truly paying attention to what he was doing, using a spell that was better than any other aura-flight spell Jane had ever researched.

She slid a slice toward her father.

He was looking directly at her. “Something is obviously wrong.”

“I’m getting there.” Jane sat down to her own cake. “So—” She paused. She stabbed her cake with her fork, then took a bite. Words failed, apparently.

How do you tell someone that you love —your father, even— that you’re jealous of how easy they had it? Especially when no one really ever had it easy? And you both just faced different obstacles, and chose different paths? Was it right to be mad at your father, at all, since he never did anything wrong, besides a bit of naivety in the beginning?

Erick took a bite of his own cake. Delight seemed to illuminate his face, and his posture. He swallowed. He said, “This is good!

Jane smiled. Her father was a good man, and she would not ruin this moment. She said, “It is good cake.” She took another bite.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Something hard and hurtful began to loosen inside Jane.

After a few more bites, Jane said, “I want to talk magic.”

Pure joy seemed to fill her father’s entire being. He smiled wide, setting down his fork, forcing himself to calmly say, “I want to talk magic, too. So you first, or me first?”

That was one of the many things Jane loved about her father; he never pressured her into anything. While he had brought up the topic of magic a few times in the past, he also recognized that Jane almost never wanted to talk about magic, so those conversations usually fell flat. But now, Jane did want to talk magic.

So she spoke.

She said, “I’ve been having some trouble with my magic. I got all the Elemental Bodies—”

“You did! That’s great!” Erick said, practically beaming.

“Yeah yeah. But. Eh.” She continued, “I even did some training with the Professor of War, Ulogai Tinawa. You had him for some classes?”

“Yeah. I did!” Erick seemed unable to stop smiling, as he said, “And you’re taking classes with him? That’s great! Fantastic. He’s good, you know? I couldn’t keep up with his classes, but Kiri got into a few advanced classes with him and a few others, and she wipes the floor with me every time we spar. Ah, yeah. I started sparring again. Just yesterday.”

Now it was Jane’s turn to smile. “Good. That’s good to hear.”

Erick grinned as he ate a forkful of cake.

Jane said, “Professor Tinawa has been pretty good to me; says his instruction is part of the trade for me giving my Fake Magic to the Headmaster— And that’s another story, too. But not that important. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to recruit me to Oceanside’s Elites. Anyway. He’s taught me some stranger uses of these Elemental Body skills, but I have yet to actually make anything he’s suggested. I’ve tried for literal days to make [Erase Presence].” She frowned, but mostly at herself. She asked, “Any thoughts on how you’d make [Erase Presence]? I’m told that all it requires is condensation of an Elemental Body, while using [Silent Movement].”

Erick listened intently while Jane spoke. When she finished, he remained silent, in thought. Jane ate a forkful of cake. The creamy sweetness was truly wonderful, but the minor citrus flavors and the hints of flower, Lime Blossom and Butter Flowers, respectively, were not as good as lemon and vanilla. This was one of Oceanside’s most popular flavors, though.

“I have no idea what [Erase Presence] is. First I’m hearing of it.” Erick asked, “What is ‘condensation’?”

Jane smiled. “That was my question, too. The answer I was told, was ‘to bring together the force of your Elemental Body, so that no one is able to sense your existence’.” She added, “The opposite way of making the skill is to diffuse yourself over a vast area, so that no one is able to see where you are, exactly. Both ways work. If you make the skill right, you get [Erase Presence]. If you make it wrong, you get [Hide Presence], or [Disguise Presence]. [Camouflage] is also an option, though you’d have to screw up pretty badly to get that one.” She said, “I couldn’t get any, though.”

Erick turned back to his slice of cake, thinking.

Jane waited.

Erick asked, “[Invisible]?”

“Not required, according to everything I read.” Jane said, “Besides, [Invisible] is illegal in most of the world. If it is required, then Tinawa is lying to me, and I’m not sure I want to go down that path.”

“Yeah… but… [Invisible] and [Silent Movement]? Those seem perfect for each other.”

“[Invisible] is sight-only.”

“Hence the missing [Silent Movement] puzzle piece.” Erick added, “But I can see that you don’t want my suggestion to be the case, because that would mean you would need to get [Invisible], which means paperwork and deeper ties to a specific city, and a restriction of movement, in case you ever run into the problem of having illegal spells in some other part of the world.”

Jane was about to say something very similar to her father’s words, but she didn’t have to; he already understood the problem. She nodded, then said, “Yeah.”

“We’ll come back to [Erase Presence] later.” Erick’s smile returned, but he forced it away, saying, “I feel like you’ve only told me half the problem.”

Jane leveled her gaze at her father. “What’s going on, Dad? You seem too happy.”

“I know, I know. I don’t mean to be mean. It’s just— We’ve been working on the same stuff, but from vastly different angles.”

“… You’ve been working on [Erase Presence]? You?”

“Oh? No. Not at all.” Erick said, “I’ve been working with [Lightwalk].”

Jane almost ended the conversation right there. She had been using [Lightwalk] for almost three months, now. A lot of that time was spent asleep, but before and after that she had been using all of her Elemental Body skills as much as she could. What did he find out about [Lightwalk] that she didn’t already experience through trial and error?

But Jane could not end the conversation, there.

Instead, she…

First, she saw how much her own, obviously visible emotions, affected her dad. Erick lost his smile, completely. And that hurt. She didn’t mean to do that.

She said, “Sorry. It’s just…”

“I can understand.” Erick said, “I don’t know why I seem to have it easier, either. I really don’t. But I want to help you, if I can.”

Jane nodded, then she forced herself to say, “What’s going on with [Lightwalk]?”

And then Erick dropped several bombshells on her. “I’d tell you about the Spatial Magic remake Quests I’m working on, but those will kill anyone without years of schooling or without a [Familiar] like Ophiel—” Ophiel twittered on Erick’s shoulder. Erick patted him, eliciting more tweets, as he continued, “So I won’t tell you about those, but I can and desperately want to tell you about how to remake the seven foundational Basic Tier Force spells; Bolt, Beam, Bomb, Shrapnel, Trap, Crash, Wave. It took me one day to remake all seven of those. I got seven points for my efforts since I already had those seven spells. I even went to the Registrar and got another Ability Slot for my Class, too.

“Briefly, here’s how I did it:

“So you got [Lightwalk]. You’re light, but you’re also one step closer to the Mana. It’s like…

“Pretend you’re on the beach, near the ocean. The beach is like being in the physical world. The water is the mana. Except you’re more sand and… You’ll figure it out. Anyway. When you [Lightwalk], or [Stone Body] or whatever, you are a being of stone that steps into the water, diffusing yourself around into that water, letting you direct your body —which is still stone, in this scenario— into affecting what the water does.

“What each Elemental Body does is put us closer to the Mana than we naturally are, as beings of flesh and blood.

“Al tried to help me ‘find my aura’ a few times, but it didn’t really work. [Lightwalk] let me find my boundary right away. Proper mages use their aura in these remake quests, I think, but you can shortcut finding your aura with an Elemental Body skill, or other things I’ve heard about, like Blood Magic and Soul Magic.” Erick finished, with, “Oh yeah. And I can control the weather now. It’s a fun spell. Got minor rains happening around Candlepoint so I don’t have to ever show up in person again. I hear there are trees growing everywhere in that dark city, now. I did the same thing for Spur, too. Rains come like they would anywhere else in the world. We had to expand the Lake. Everyone seems to be happy but Al has already complained about having to reroute the sewers.” Erick smiled. “I helped him a bit with that. It was fun.”

Jane blinked a little. Words tumbled out, “I heard about the rains.” She didn’t know what to say about all the rest of that. So she didn’t.

Silence.

Ophiel twittered a few tiny notes, but then silence came back, deeper than before.

Erick asked, “Have you heard from Delia? I heard that—”

“How do you remake [Force Bolt]? Or any of them!” Jane almost shouted, “How the FUCK have you—”

Erick, nice as he possibly could, asked, “Hey? Why not try this?” He held up his hand, conjuring a small, white dagger made of hardened mana into his grip. “Take your [Conjure Weapon] and flow mana through it—” He dismissed the dagger, only to have white mana flow through his hand, like a tiny fountain of knives. “And you listen to the notes made.” He offered, “This one sounds like violent force applied to a violent task. I’m sure [Conjure Item] would sound much less harmful, but be a lot more complicated, so we’ll stick with [Conjure Weapon] for now.” He flickered white, activating [Lightwalk]. “And then you sort of twist yourself, and thus the mana, into the shape you heard, sounding out—”

A radiant length of white force condensed into Erick’s hand, then condensed further, elongating out the bottom of his grip. Radiance flashed up and down as Erick held his hand out, away from the kitchen table. When the magic was done, her father held a simple staff; a simple weapon meant mainly for defense, but it was still two meters long and perfectly sized to him. His eyes were wider than before.

He glanced at the white staff, then at an empty space of air. “I did not expect that to work so well, or to get a staff. But I guess it did.” With his free hand, he gestured the air toward Jane, revealing a blue box.

 

 

Jane didn’t know what to say to that.

She said, “I don’t know what to say to that.”

Erick said, “It’s not nearly as easy as it looks, because between the Elemental Body and spell re-creation there’s aligning mana in order to guide it into the proper form. It took me several hours to make [Force Bolt], but [Force Wave] was the simplest— I mean…” He dismissed the white staff, saying, “There’s emotions and harmonies to put into your recreation, and if you don’t match it perfectly to what’s already there in the Script, then you don’t make the spell. Maybe there’s a margin of error, though? There probably is.

“But I have noticed a discrepancy. You should be able to use this method to create higher tier magic. To make an actual [Fireball] spell without going through the tiers. But I don’t know why that doesn’t work. I’ve tried remaking my [Glacial Crash] a dozen different ways, but nothing happened. At first, I thought the problem might have been with using the wrong Elemental Body, seeing as all I have is [Lightwalk], so I first made a [Radiant Bolt] which was [Force Bolt] and Mana Altering for Light. Then, I tried to remake it using this method.

“That didn’t work. Maybe because I already had the spell? I don’t know.

“So I tried making a [Radiant Crash] which is the same combo but with [Force Crash], without making the spell first. This gave me much the same result, which was nothing.

“And then I tried making one of Kiri’s new spells. She’s real big on this Firelight thing I made a few spells ago, so she’s gone all out on all of that, and one of the spells she made is called [Firelight Defender]. It’s this shield that hovers at her back, pouring out firelight when not in use, empowering most of her close range magic, but it also moves out like a sapient [Force Wall] to defend her from any rear attack.

“Long story short: I couldn’t remake that one, either.

“I’m missing some key factor here. Maybe it’s my Class? I’m not sure. This method is not good enough to make the Spatial Spells either; those require something more than just harmony, intent, and skill. A lot of the more complicated Basic Spells require something that I just haven’t found, yet, like [Conjure Force Elemental]. I’m guessing that one requires knowledge of soul work.

“Don’t go trying to make Spatial spells, Jane.” Erick’s words turned harder. “I mean it. You could die. But I’m still telling you because I think it might help you with other aspects of your magic, maybe. And if nothing else, it’s free points!

“Anyway, besides all that, I think this is how Shade spells work. Maybe they’re not empowered and limited by the Script, so they can go in any direction? I’m not sure.” Erick said, “I also believe they do every one of their spells freehand, every time they cast. There’s nothing helping them but pure skill and knowledge of how magic works, at its base, which is apparently something that the Script cannot stop from happening? I’m still not sure on that part.” He finished, “There’s a lot of ifs and maybes in all of that, but the base Elemental Body functionality does work like this.

“There’s also apparently Blood Magic and Soul Magic, in order to remake Script spells, and then you have my method of singing at the sky. So. I’m right about these uses of Elemental Body, but not completely right.”

Jane listened. She held one hand loose on her fork, while her other hand touched her plate. Her cake sat half eaten, because for some reason, it started to taste like ash. Or maybe it was just fine, and Jane herself had turned rotten.

Most prominently, Jane felt a deep resentment at having to be shown the way. A palpable anger rocked through her chest with every beat of her heart. She tried to keep that anger off of her face, but she was sure her father had seen it, though he kept talking, hoping to drown her pain with the gift he was giving her.

And it was a gift; freely given and with the hope to help her through her own difficulties.

But still; Anger.

And so, understanding her own emotions, she listened to her father. A choice formed, as she heard his words, and felt his feelings. A path opening up before her. A myriad of ways suddenly seemed to illuminate her world, like she had been stuck in a dark forest for a long time, and someone had turned on a light.

It was a simple choice.

She could give voice to her anger, to give power to that primal part of herself that accepted instruction and help from everyone else, because they knew what they were doing, but not from her father, because she had looked out for him, for most of her teenage years. She could tear down what he was trying to build. She could be mad.

Yet, even as she felt that option form, she recoiled from it. She would not be mad at her father for studying magic and making his own, while she fucked around with exploring the world, gaining skill, and piling on traumatic stress. It honestly did not matter that he had figured out how to work [Lightwalk] much better than she had figured out any of her own Elemental Body skills. What mattered, was that her father was making himself stronger, and he was offering her help so she could become stronger, too.

She blinked, then brushed away a few unruly drops of salty water from her eyes. She laughed, once, then twice. “That’s pretty amazing.” Brushing a hand through the dense air all around them, she added, “Amazing that you can make spells inside this [Prismatic Ward], too.”

Her father’s smile returned, as he said, “Of course you can make—” He paused. A look of dawning realization came upon his face, as he looked up, saying, “Huh.” Turning to Jane, he said, “I made this spell [Clothe], inside of this dense air, rather easily. Only took me two tries. [Force Bolt] and all the other ones were made out in the desert. It took me a while to make those… Multiple tries… But that was my first time trying out [Conjure Weapon]?”

Jane smirked, saying, “I hope you’re recording all your experiments, taking down every single measurement, and then keeping that book somewhere very safe.”

Erick got a far off look. Then he flickered into light, and held out his hand. After a moment of holding onto the air, he reverted back to his human body. He said, “Still no luck remaking Kiri’s spell.”

Jane asked, “How about [Lightshape]?”

He smiled, then flickered back into a glowing version of himself. He stared off into space for a long moment, then he looked to the windows.

It was basically noon at Windy Manor, if not a little after. The large picture windows that made up the western wall of the log cabin showed a brilliant blue sky, gardens tended more by the groundskeepers than by Jane, and the sun coming down at a slight angle, into the house. The sunlight changed at Erick’s transformation into the human version of a glowstick. Ribbons of light went dull, first one space, then another, like someone had poked foot-wide fingers into the light. Where those interruptions touched the space, glitters held in the air above the interruption, like rain bouncing off roofs, or lasers bouncing off disco balls.

Ah. Jane could see it now; what her father had done.

Her father had pressed a meter wide version of his hand into the light, trying to touch the sun. His fingers twisted in the light, trying to hold intangible beams. Whatever he was doing certainly didn’t look like a [Lightshape]; that particular spell was more like sculpting with glows, almost like constructing wardlights. Erick cut his spell. Sunbeams snapped back into position faster than Jane could see, as her father turned back to his dull, human self. He smirked at the sun beams.

Jane asked, “Did that work? [Lightshape]?”

“Nope,” Erick said, more contemplative than anything else. “Still missing something.”

A spark of inspiration crossed Jane’s mind. She smiled. Maybe she could help her father here? She said, “Maybe you don’t get [Lightshape] from [Lightwalk]. That seems really weird to me. But. Well. Here:” Jane set her fork down on her plate, then held her hand to the side. Shadows split from her own, forming a secondary hand that reached for her fork. The shadow hand picked up the metal utensil, holding perfectly steady under her control. And then she crunched the fork into a ball of scrap, using her shadow. Another twist of darkness placed the fork back in her natural hand, where a dark blue glow [Mend]ed the fork, twisting it back into its normal shape. Jane said, “I can only do that with [Greater Shadowalk]. For larger attacks, I can use [Shadowshape] to grab a larger portion of darkness. For every other Elemental Body I have, I need to supplement my grips with [Telekinesis], or partially transform. I’ve lost hands by partially transforming, so I almost always choose to fully transform, and supplement my grip with [Telekinesis].”

Erick was smiling, but at the mention of ‘lost hands’, he winced, sucking in air through closed teeth. He shivered, then said, “This is the truly dangerous part of being a mage, Jane. I’ve seen so many warnings about Spatial Magic— I’m working with some Wayfarers and their guild to try and make [Gate], you know? They had a book for me, but they only gave it to me after I proved that I wouldn’t kill myself using the techniques listed in there.” He said, “Ophiel’s taking on all of the danger, there.”

Jane looked to Ophiel, who fluffed up, proud of himself. She smiled a little, then said, “A lot is happening over in Spur, isn’t it?” She looked to her father, and semi-seriously said, “And you should have channeled mana through [Lightwalk], and then tried to make [Greater Lightwalk]!” She switched to jokes, “How many other things are you doing half-assed? How come you haven’t solved the Crystal Mimic problem yet? Or ended injustice in the world? What about some Plus 100 Willpower crowns to cast your [Prismatic Ward]?”

He grinned, then smiled. “I haven’t killed any dark gods either, but the day’s still young!”

Jane laughed, then ate another bite of cake. Soon, both of them were having seconds, as they switched to harder drinks. It was sunset somewhere, after all, and their current booze was even called ‘Sunset Red’. It was the best liquor of all of those she had sampled at a liquor tasting in town, a few days ago. She also got the second best, and the third best, because why not?

They spoke of magic and gossip and bank accounts, with Erick speaking of the logistics of moving literal tons of rads across the Crystal Forest, and Jane talking about how her Mage Guild Bank account only allowed 100 gold withdrawals in some parts of the world, like the Sovereign Cities, and 10 gold max in some of the smaller towns out in the rural parts of the Greensoil Republic.

Talking about money was just Erick’s way of trying to offload some wealth onto Jane, though, but she wasn’t having any of that.

“I can make my own way, but thank you,” Jane said, sitting on the living room couch.

“I know you can! I just… It’s an offer, okay?”

Jane smiled, then switched the topic to how Oceanside did international questing.

“Angels and demons? With eyes everywhere on the world?” Erick sat up on the couch across from Jane, and asked, “And [Gate]s?”

“Heck yeah, [Gate]s! And prayers to angels and demons are useful, too. They might actually answer you with help. That’s the part I appreciate.” She paused, humming, then added, “Sort of.” Jane said, “I don’t plan on being an Elite, but the offer is tempting because the work is rewarding. Even if you, dear father, manage to make [Gate], you won’t have their sheer ability to find and categorize the threats on Veird’s surface. That’s the real draw, here.”

“That reminds me, I have to talk to the Headmaster about getting [Duplicate].”

“Why?”

“It’s for some failed way that they’ve tried to get [Gate] to work.” Erick waved a hand through the air, saying, “It probably won’t work for me, either, but I still want to try.”

“I finished my daily divulging of Earth’s Fake Magic two days ago, but if I ever wanted to talk to him, he said I could just go to the front office. Someone there would be able to contact him.”

Erick smiled. “Maybe later. I don’t want to be a hermit, but I also don’t feel comfortable out there on my own.”

Jane sat up, worried. “Why are you not comfortable out there?”

“Because death comes too fast, even with an almost 25,000 point [Personal Absorption Ward].”

“Oh.” Jane leaned back in her chair. “Yeah. That.”

His words were deeper than his usual. Her father had something he wasn’t telling her. Jane didn’t like that, but she had a lot she wasn’t telling him, too.

He changed the subject. “You were talking about condensation or diffusion of Elemental Bodies before, right? What’s all that about?”

“Killing intent. Do you remember me ever talking about that?”

“… No.”

Jane giggled. She said, “It’s this Fake Magic that is about taking your desire to harm something or someone and turning that into a supernatural edge that can harm by sheer force of will. Lesser versions inspire fear and paralysis.”

“Seems like Mental Magic to me.”

“… Nooo? I don’t think so. It’s more: ‘Look at me and despair’ sort of fear inducing. But I don’t think that has anything to do with the goal, here. I think the purpose here is more a honing of power into either an edge, or a strong defense.”

“The only strong defense I can think of is to not get hit in the first place.”

Jane smiled again. “Yeah. That’s why I think the diffusion option is more of a dodge tank sort of thing.”

“… Dodge tank?”

“Someone who soaks up enemy attacks by being up in their face, but also unable to get hit.”

“Okay. Gotcha.”

Jane said, “Anyway: Condensation into a concentrated attack. Diffusion into an evasive defense.” Jane said, “Once you have all the Elemental Bodies, except [Dragon Body], since Rozeta exempted that from the recipe… You’re supposed to be able to combine them into some sort of [Prismatic Attack] or [Prismatic Defense].” She added, “Professor Tinawa said that was the basis to plowing ahead with the Bodies, but also that such a dichotomy was a gross oversimplification.”

“It certainly sounds like a simplification to me.” Erick said, “But if I were you, evasion is the much better choice. You might be able to heal from… from a lot. But it’s scary to walk around out there. No one needs to hit harder, for sure.”

“Yeah… I’m… thinking on it.” Jane said, “I’m also working on [Melee Reflection]. Got any tips for that?”

Erick winced. “I don’t even have [Strike] yet.”

Jane laughed. “I haven’t made a single one of the spells I wanted to make, ever since we dropped to Veird.”

“What?” Erick gave a slight, unknowing smile. “How? What?”

“The seven spells I wanted since the beginning! Oh. I never spoke of them, at all, did I?”

“Not to me!” Erick frowned, a bit more serious this time. “You really need to call more, Jane. It’s not right for a father to have to track down his daughter all the time.”

“Okay! Okay. Yeah. You might be right about that.”

“You’re stalling.”

“… Yeah. So… Here’s the list, in an unorganized fashion, where I don’t know which one is more important than the others.” Jane said, “[Fly], because duh. [Disintegrate], to utterly destroy something at the molecular level. [Mana Generation], for obvious reasons. [Time Stop], for similarly obvious reasons. [Haste], but [Hunter’s Instincts] is pretty close, so I can leave that one. [Gate], which you’re already working on, apparently. And finally, [True Regeneration], to revive, whole and unharmed, from a single drop of blood.”

“Nice list.” Erick said, “Let’s work on [Fly].”

Jane teased, “Sure! Pick the easiest one, why don’t you! What do you think is the hardest?”

“I certainly have zero ideas on how to make [Mana Generation]—”

“That’s the difficult one for you?”

“Where would you even begin, Jane? Meditation doesn’t actually increase your regeneration, you know?”

“Yeah yeah. I read the theories.” Jane spouted off, “Meditation allows one to change themselves in order to allow the natural mana of the world to flow into their reserves more easily.” She poured the last shot of Sunset Red into her cup, and then her father’s, as she said, “I was hoping you knew how to actually make mana, itself. Or some other workaround to this problem. I don’t want to chug mana potions. I want to cast a spell and regenerate my mana.”

“I don’t think you can make mana. I’ve read about tests where volunteers have spent weeks inside sealed antirhine chambers to test how mana works, but the mana inside the chambers never changed density.”

“I read about those, too.”

Erick sipped his sky-red drink, then said, “[Gate] is known; I’m already working on that. You’re gonna need a [Familiar] if you want to learn, too. [Time Stop] seems like a Melemizargo thing, or a Phagar thing. [True Regeneration] is definitely a Phagar thing… [Disintegrate], though…? Hold on.” He looked to the air.

Jane looked up with him, and saw nothing.

And then she felt it. A brush of warmth. She instantly flipped on Meditation, and saw what her father was doing. Among the swirling mana and the illusions of monsters and harm lurking in the air of Windy Manor, there was a golden glow, like a cross between ocean currents and fire. It was not intent, or mortal magic; it was something much deeper. Erick had mentioned this before, but she had never seen it in person. Jane knew that she would have to chide Kiri, though, since Kiri’s description of the event left something to be desired. Erick was definitely communing directly with a god.

Erick said, “[Disintegrate] has already been made. You just need to get [Condense Particle] and then work your way up to it.” He looked down to Jane, saying, “And yeah. That’s another foible of the Script. The people who make the original spells get them at Basic Tier, but everyone else has to make them from scratch in the usual way. I’ve heard that people like the Headmaster and such already know this, but it’s not well known among the rest of us since the last time there were new spells was 1200 years ago. It’s a toss up whether it’s going to be this whole big thing, or not.” He said, “I’m pretty sure my [Call Lightning] is actually a tier 7 or 8 spell, but it’s gonna stay at tier 1, for me.”

That was all very interesting, but Jane pointed at the air above, asking, “So who is that?”

“… Uh.” Erick held his cup of red still, then set it down as he said, “No one.”

“Right.” Jane guessed it was either Atunir or… Maybe Rozeta, but Rozeta would have communicated in blue boxes, right? Koyabez? That was a large possibility. But her father would have just said if it was one of those gods, right? So it wasn’t one of them. Or maybe it was. Talking directly to gods seemed like one of those things most people would want to keep to themselves, unless they were priests of that god. So… Jane decided, “I don’t need to know.”

Erick smiled. “So? [Fly]?”

“Yes.” Jane’s eyes lit up. “[Fly]. And how about a few other things, too?” She asked, “Do you want to stick with the Sunset Red? Or move on to something else? I have a variety.”

“I like this Red. Let’s stick with that.” He asked, “And what do you have in mind?”

 

– – – –

 

They spoke of high level melee fights, where a warrior like Jane would, according to Professor Tinawa, best be served by the quick and perfect usage of various reflection [Ward]s, both magical and melee. This would, of course, occupy Jane’s single [Personal Ward], as she rapidly cycled through whatever was needed in order to reflect and negate enemy [Strike]s and spells.

Erick got way too excited. He leapt up from the couch, saying, “Oh my gods! Is that how high level warriors fight?” He began conjuring blackboards into the living room, muttering, “Oh wow. That’s perfect! I wondered how— It’s just so elegant.”

Soon, diagrams of light and molecules and refraction and reflections occupied black slate boards. Erick asked how Jane thought a [Strike] reflection would work. Jane had no idea. All her ideas never worked.

And so, a smaller discussion began regarding how Jane viewed magic.

“It’s just a tool,” Jane said.

Erick frowned. The Sunset Red in his cup showed the truth of its name, as the sun was beginning to dip down, outside, coloring the world in pinks, yellows, and reds. He breathed deep, then sighed, and said, “Magic is not just a tool, and I think this is the basis of your problem.”

Jane kept her tone light as she shot back, “But it is just a tool. Oceanside has built itself up on proving that magic is a tool, like any other. With levers to push and ways to work the mana, in order to create magic how you want to create magic.” She switched back to English, her words tumbling roughly out of her like rust shaking from an old machine, “The translation for our ‘magic’ in Ecks, is ‘magic’, but the meaning of their word for ‘magic’ is closer to our word for ‘science’.”

Erick switched to English, saying, “That may be trueth barth—” He made a weird face, like his tongue had cramped. Wiggling his tongue around in the air for a moment, Erick opened and closed his mouth a few times, then said, “I need to speak English more. It’s been a longth— a long time.” He spoke faster, saying, “But that’s another thing! You and I don’t have a cultural understanding of magic as science. You and I— You much more than I, have a cultural upbringing of magic as this fantastical force beyond our control—”

“But I like magic as a tool!” Jane said, “Magic as science doesn’t make any sense to me! Even if magic is, at its base, about condensing possibility down to reality, it has to follow rules, or else it’s useless! You can’t build a house on sand; you can’t build a world on ideas.”

She didn’t speak of how she loved the idea of the Script. How she had such high hopes once she found out how it worked. Even now, when she thought of how she felt back then, she still had some tiny hope that she could make her own way through the Script, but that hope was shadowed by the reality that she had failed to make any of her own spells. She brushed away an unruly tear, hoping that her father did not see, but he did. Erick didn’t comment on that, though.

He said, “Before the creation of the Script, all they had was sand. The magic of their Old Cosmology was nothing but ideas and areas of solidity that everyone collectively agreed upon. But this reality is too solid. They adapted, in coming here. Those who live now are more like you and me than how they used to be, but mana still exists, and the fantastical still thrives where it can, in souls, or in gods, or in magic.” Erick said, “You can’t go applying laws to the ethereal. You can only accept the Truth, and meet it in the middle.”

“Jesus Christ, Dad.” Jane said, “You sound like a Melemizargo cultist.”

Erick frowned, saying, “Even broken clocks are right twice a day, but I’m not stupid enough to believe all the rest of what they say.”

Silence held in Windy Manor, while Jane looked away, and her father looked to her.

He quietly asked, “Do you not believe in magic?”

Jane snorted, saying, “There’s nothing to believe in! Mana exists. It doesn’t need me to believe in it for it to work, more than the rocks need me to believe they’d support my weight.”

“… Do you remember what the very first blue box you ever got, said? The one that popped up for you when we fell to Veird. The initializing mana, one?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with—”

“We never talked about it, but it might be important?” Erick said, “Mine talked about expunging unauthorized metaphysical influences and how I had no desire—” He held a hand up into the air, manifesting a blue box for Jane to read. “Here. You can get yours back with a small prayer to Rozeta.”

 

 

Reading such an old blue box brought back a flood of emotions. The fall through the sky. A walk through a desert of crystal plants, not knowing how deadly it was to get near some of them until much later. A giant black bug that tried to scrape open her leg to feast on her blood, then hiding the wound so her father wouldn’t see. Running from one of Melemizargo’s [Familiar]s, that Jane later found out was named Purodhalia.

Erick’s initializing box was different than Jane’s, though. Not that different, but different enough to matter. Maybe. She gave a small prayer to Rozeta, and got hers back, if only to look at the box again, but she already knew what it said. As she read it again for the first time in almost ten months, she felt a familiar anger take hold.

 

 

She handed the blue box to her father, saying, “I wanted too much, so it gave nothing, but even after learning more, I’m still not as successful as you.”

Erick read the blue box. First, he frowned. But then he read it again, seemingly contemplating the words. And then, instead of being sympathetic, or questioning, or anything that Jane expected, her father smiled, small at first, and then wider. He laughed.

She almost threw her drink on the floor, but instead she just spat, “What the FUCK, Dad? I pour my heart out—”

“No no! Jane!” Erick smiled, saying, “Everything you want, exists! This proves it! You shouldn’t have any problems, but maybe you just haven’t done what you actually wanted to do?”

Jane pulled back. “… I tried.”

“Yes! I know you tried, Jane.” Erick set down his drink, then asked, “But what was the very first thing you talked about when we dropped here?”

“That old, stupid idea.” Jane frowned, saying, “[Teleport]ing Paladin was a limit that I quickly realized was unnecessary to have. Heavy armor is a waste of [Conjure Armor] and monstrous forms are too powerful to ignore.”

Erick seemed almost hurt by Jane’s words. He said, “But you loved playing paladins? Warriors of the light and the good? You talked about it all the time when you were younger. [Smite]ing evil and ending necromancers and helping people?” He asked, “Whatever happened to that?”

Jane had no answer, besides the one she had already given.

He said, “If you got every Elemental Body, then you must have gotten every [Polymorph] form you needed for Polymage. So why haven’t you told me that you got the Class, yet? The Class you’ve been aiming for since you found out it existed?”

“Because you’re right. Polymage is not me. Not exactly.” Jane shook her head, saying, “I don’t want to talk about Polymage right now.”

“Okay. We won’t do that, then.” Erick offered, “How about we try for what a [Fly] spell would look like on a paladin?”

Jane barked a laugh. She couldn’t help herself. Paladins didn’t fly. At least any of the normal paladins she ever played…

… Oh.

She mumbled, “Paladins don’t fly.”

“Work with me, here.”

Jane said, “Fine. They’d sprout wings and glow.”

“Okay! Now we’re talking!” Erick turned back to the chalkboards where he promptly drew a stick figure with wings drawn in a loopy, childish manner. “Now your Polymage could just sprout the wings, couldn’t they?”

“… Yes. But I want an aura of wings. Not something sprouting out of my back that means I have to change armor all the damn time.”

Erick wrote her requirements on the board, saying, “I’m glad you want to keep the armor. I’d prefer you to stay at home with me, but I doubt that would ever happen.”

Jane snorted.

Erick continued, “So! Auras! An Aura of your Bird or something? Razorwing, right?”

“Actually, I got a Primal Frost Owl form just the other day. Silent flier, big as a truck and with the wingspan to match.” Jane smiled a little, saying, “Very fast, too. Naturally chills anything I touch, but I’d imagine that if I took Polymage I could get the Class Skill that would let me turn that chilling touch up to freezing, easy enough.”

“Have you considered totems, or spirits? Like an aura of your polymorph forms, that you can wear into battle without actually changing your form?” He playfully added, “Maybe that way you wouldn’t be naked all the time, out there.”

“I have considered that, and I don’t like it.”

“Why not!” He said, “You can still use your [Polymorph] forms if you wanted to, can’t you?”

“Nope.” Jane smirked. “Mantle Warrior, which is the Class you’re thinking of, requires you to consume your alternate forms to create your auras.”

“That’s dumb.” Erick said, “Make your own Class, then. You’ve done more than enough to get there.”

Jane said, “I’m trying.” As the thought came to her, but before she could put up her defenses that demanded she not speak to her father about such an idea, she asked, “What would a Prismatic Polymage Paladin look like to you?”

Erick immediately said, “Someone who doesn’t let stone walls or flying distance or lava barriers or oceans, or shadows or light, get in the way of defending those who need defending. Someone who rejects the power of their enemies, who breaks what needs breaking. Someone as brave and as strong, and as smart, as you, Jane.”

Jane smiled to herself as the sun touched the ocean, in the western sky. Shadows stretched into Windy Manor, but the lights of the house and the dense air made the house feel like a home, especially with her father standing not two meters away from her. She set down her drink, as tears threatened to fall.

She stepped forward, into her father’s arms. She hugged him tight, as he hugged her, their heads upon each other’s shoulders. It was only then, that she let her tears fall, but there were no racking sobs. She was not sad, she was just overwhelmed. Her father’s ideas could work, but even if they didn’t, she loved him all the same. She laughed a little.

He said, “The defensive Prismatic option is better than another [Smite].”

Jane laughed again. Erick chuckled.

Jane said, “And [Air Body] is basically [Fly], anyway.”

“Oh my gods!” Erick laughed, saying, “It is, isn’t it! Ha!”

The two of them stayed like that, for a while longer. Jane broke away as her father did. He had been crying, too.

Jane laughed, saying, “It’s so weird to see you look this young.”

Erick smiled, as he dried his face, saying, “I love you, too.”

“I love you, too!” Jane moved toward the kitchen, saying, “More cake?”

“Yes!” Erick stepped toward the kitchen with her, saying, “But when are you coming back to Spur?”

“Soon, probably.” Jane said, “And I don’t really need [Fly] with [Air Body]. I’ve just been jealous of your [Flight of a Thousand Hands] for a long time.”

Erick smirked. “It is rather Handy, isn’t it?”

She paused. “I set that up too well for you, didn’t I?”

“Yup! More cake?”

“More cake.”

More cake was had, and it was good.

 

– – – –

 

As the sun vanished below the horizon, Jane stood off-center of Windy Manor. Shadows licked across her feet and twisted in every darkened corner of the house, while Erick looked on, leaning against the kitchen table.

Erick asked, “Do you feel the mana?”

“I think so?” Jane said, “I guess I always have, but it doesn’t feel that much different than myself.”

Erick said, “I think what the [Shadowalk] is doing is spreading yourself out wide enough that your aura is interacting with the world on a much larger scale, artificially increasing your contact with the Manasphere. If you can control that point of contact with the Manasphere, you can coalesce something out of it, along lines already there in the Script.” He said, “Try channeling mana through [Conjure Weapon], and feel the harmony. I think this harmony is a way for the Script to interact with the mana, but I have no idea why the mana takes to the harmony like this.”

Jane held a hand out. Shadows thinned to nothing, as she cut that spell, and began channeling mana through [Conjure Weapon], and her hand. Dark blue light flickered like flames across her palm. A length of cutting force manifested in the mana display, humming with a sound of severed endings. Jane could hear that cutting end, for the first time since her father showed her his way.

She smiled. “I can hear it?” She said, “I think I can?”

Erick nodded, saying, “It sounds almost like mine, but yours is more of a cutting end.”

“Ha!” Jane said, “That’s exactly what I was thinking, too.”

Erick smirked, waiting.

Jane flickered with shadows, and magic, as she hummed her greater self into something sharper, something meant to end threats and—

A length of shadow twisted across her palm, expanding outward. She gripped the magic, holding it tight as Force coalesced outward into a length of darkness two meters long. The weapon was made of fractures near the base, broken except for where she gripped the darkness, and a single edge made of sharpness. It was almost the exact same sword she always summoned, but denser and thinner at the same time.

 

 

Erick cheered, “Wooo! Good job, Jane!”